


Free Falling

by CielWritesShit



Series: This is what family means [1]
Category: A Heist With Markiplier, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A heist with Markiplier - Freeform, Abuse, Gen, Harm, Illinois Deserved Better, Illinois Jones - Freeform, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, angel au, read the tags, winged Illinois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25323823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CielWritesShit/pseuds/CielWritesShit
Summary: The first memories illinois has of being on Earth were not pretty. In fact, they were so painful, he never wanted to live through them again.But every angel's story on earth must start somewhere, and it seems that he got very unlucky...
Series: This is what family means [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834219
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Free Falling

**Author's Note:**

> !!!PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> So, this is the start of my winged!illinois au, which has been inspired by a rp server I'm on. Please understand that I have a lot planned out, and this will be an ongoing series on my account. I will try to write each part as if it can stand alone, but it will make sense if you read it all together.
> 
> As for triggers (please let me know if you want me to add any or tag them in the description), this one has abuse from an unnamed character, mentions of blood, passing out from pain, and using a blade to attempt to cut through wings. If any of that upsets you, please be careful reading this. 
> 
> And with that, I'll see you down in the comments.

The first thing Illinois could remember was falling. Falling through the dark sky.

Down. 

Down.

Down.

Falling faster and faster.

He was falling too fast to stop, too fast to do anything except brace for impact.

He wrapped his wings around himself, barreling down towards the road. He could only hope that his wings would offer him some kind of cushioning or protection for his landing. He shut his eyes tight.

Illinois cried out as he hit the ground. The gravel scraped along him as he skidded, hot tears running down his face. He was almost certain he was bleeding, staining his wings a deep crimson. His arms stung, his wings burned. The back of his head was throbbing, and he could feel some warm liquid running down his neck.

_ I guess I didn’t protect myself well enough… _ _   
_ _   
_ He rolled for what seemed like hours, eventually coming to rest at the side of a country road. He couldn’t move, could barely breathe, just lie there in agony. Everything continued to hurt. He sobbed, every gasped breath sending waves of pain through his entire system. He wasn’t sure, but he felt like he was dying.

It hurt like he was dying.   
  
He almost wished he’d died right there and then. 

It would’ve been better if he had. If he’d never been found.

He knew that now, but at the time, he fought to stay alive. To keep breathing until he could be saved.

And he was. Someone found his broken body, and picked him up. They took no care of his wings, crushing them against his back. Those rough hands had made his vision go white with pain as they moved him. They threw him into the back of a van, tied him up with fraying rope. It burned as it rubbed across him. He’d cried out with every movement, cried until his voice was gone and it hurt his throat to breathe.

His ‘saviour’ hadn’t cared.

If anything, they’d smiled at his pain, a twisted happiness reflected in their eyes.

He’d screamed in agony as they’d pulled at his wings, twisting them into strange positions. He was almost certain they’d taken a blade to the base of them at one point, tried to cut them off at the back. When they realised there was bone in them, they’d stopped.

Illinois was lulled into a false sense of security when they’d stopped cutting him. Maybe they’d stop hurting him, now they knew he was real. Maybe they’d let him go free.

Hope is a funny thing.

His capturer pulled handfuls of his feathers from his back. He could remember the merciless laugh as he’d screamed, his body shaking as he felt the pain course through him. His vision whited out, he couldn’t hear anything anymore…

And then everything went dark.

...That was the first time he ever passed out from pain.


End file.
